


half-baked

by iceprinceofbelair



Series: snakebites [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animals love Jaskier, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Viper!Jaskier, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, and canon geography, playing fast and loose with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24335290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Eskel finds a child in the woods and gets more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: snakebites [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756888
Comments: 13
Kudos: 288





	half-baked

Eskel freezes, scenting the air. There’s nothing to arouse suspicion which, naturally, arouses suspicion. He positions himself so that his swords are easily in reach and urges his dappled grey gelding off the path. Typically, Eskel doesn’t like to get involved with monsters when he’s not being paid but, well, there were children playing just a mile down the road and he’d rather not feel responsible if they end up torn to shred. So he’ll take a look, for free. Because he’s stupid.

What he finds...well, it isn’t what he expects.

There’s a child in the clearing, curled up by a pile of unlit firewood, writhing in obvious pain. For a moment - only a  _ moment,  _ damn it - Eskel is shocked into inaction and simply watches the child’s contortions of agony with a wrench of discomfort in his gut. Soon enough, his faculties return to him and he slides off his horse, boots making contact with the grass in complete silence, and inches closer, keeping his guard up for a potential trap. 

But there’s nothing - only the agony of a terrified child abandoned in the woods. Well, Eskel knows how that feels. 

As he gets closer, Eskel places the child’s age between six and nine years old and he - for the child is indeed a young boy - smells human. Mostly. There’s something else there, half of a hint of a suggestion of _ something. _ Something else. Asked to guess, Eskel would call the child a quarter elf. There’s definitely some magic in his lineage. All the same, Eskel isn’t in the business of leaving children alone in the middle of the woods and it’s not a career path he intends to take up now.

The boy suddenly cries out in agony, forcing his upper body to arch up off the ground, breathing harsh and ragged. Eskel smells the vomit before it appears and winces. Everything about this situation suggests poison. Eskel wouldn’t exactly call himself an expert on nobility but he’s well-versed in what makes a monster and, truly, the two tended to overlap. He’s seen this before, nobles abandoning a troublesome child in the woods to rid themselves of an unsuitable heir. Perhaps this is a child born out of wedlock, or in poor health, or simply unloved. There was a reason so many witchers came from nobility after all. 

“Alright, kid,” Eskel mutters, adopting his most soothing voice as he crouches by the heaving boy and offers his waterskin. “Get it all out. You’ll feel better.”

The boy coughs and spits out a mouthful of stringy, acrid bile before looking up to take stock of this stranger. Eskel braces himself for fear when the boy meets his eyes. Instead, he finds himself knocked off balance when the boy’s expression shutters into one of unbridled relief. 

Okay. That’s new.

In an attempt to ignore how much this whole situation is unsettling him - read: a lot - Eskel holds out the waterskin with more insistence, appraising the child as he drinks from it without a trace of concern. Fuck, didn’t anyone teach this kid to be wary of strangers, never mind  _ witchers?  _ Eskel shakes himself.

“Eat some bad berries, kid?” He asks, largely because he doesn’t like that this literal child is freaking him out so much. “Happens to the best of us.”

The kid swallows another sip of water before rinsing out his mouth and returning the waterskin. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, sounding quiet and drawn. 

Eskel frowns. Hopefully, whatever this kid ingested is out of his system by now. 

“No problem, kid. So, what’s got you out here?” Eskel asks. 

The boy’s face darkens. “Ran,” he says.

Eskel nods solemnly. He’s in the middle of figuring out what the fuck to say next when Luath makes his way over to whuff at the boy’s hair and the kid’s entire demenour shifts in the blink of an eye. 

“Hi there,” he croaks, reaching up with a shaky hand to pet the horse’s snout. Luath, soft bastard that he is, snickers quietly and the boy huffs out a soft laugh of his own. His eyes drift back to Eskel who, once again, prepares himself for the inevitable flash of panic. But it doesn’t come. Instead, the boy’s lips twitch upwards minutely into the barest imitation of a smile. “This your horse?”

“Luath,” Eskel confirms, fondness creeping into his tone against his will. “Eats me out of house and home, this one. Greedy bastard.”

Luath snickers again and Eskel imagines he sounds insulted but the boy’s drawn face practically lights up with humour. For a moment, Eskel thinks it’s the same humour kids always seem to find in grown ups using bad language but then the kid throws him for a loop.

“Don’t listen to him,” the boy says, to  _ Eskel’s horse.  _ “A witcher’s horse earns half his coin, eh boy?”

Eskel can’t stop his mouth from gaping. “Anyone ever told you you’re a cheeky little shit?”

The boy beams. “Every day.”

Eskel snorts and, before he really registers it, his hand reaches out of its own accord and ruffles the kid’s mess of sweaty brown hair. “You’re alright, kid.”

The silence washes over them for a moment while the kid keeps gently petting Luath’s nose, apparently unbothered by the intensity of the witcher’s gaze on him. Then, Eskel smells blood and, quite suddenly, a streak of red runs from the boy’s nose down over his lips and he lets out a pained grunt as he starts dry heaving. Eskel’s eyes widen. It looks like…

“Kid,” Eskel says faintly, shoving the waterskin back into the boy’s hands. “What the fuck?”

Because there is no fucking  _ way  _ this child is going through the Grasses on his own in the middle of the forest. That’s just- that  _ can’t  _ be what’s happening here. Eskel watches the boy sip from the waterskin to stop his heaving and tries very hard not to come to the obvious conclusion. Despite Vesemir’s frequent rants to the contrary, Eskel is not stupid. He’s always had trouble learning things by rote without excruciating pangs of boredom but he’s observant and what he’s observing here is nothing short of extremely troubling. 

“We had to run,” the boy manages at last, sounding hoarse and drawn. 

“We?” Eskel says, trying his level best not to sound as panicked as he feels by the possibility that there are any number of witcher-human hybrid children scattered around these woods. 

“There was so much fire,” the boy mutters. His gaze is far away, like he’s seeing another world beyond Eskel’s left knee. “Gorthur Gvaed…”

Clarity washes over Eskel like he’s been dumped in an icy pond. 

“You’re a Viper,” Eskel breathes.

Of course, Eskel, like everyone else, knows the rumours of the elusive Viper school and he’s perfectly aware that most witchers agree they’re based somewhere in Tir Tochair. But there are just as many who think Gorthur Gvaed doesn’t exist at all, that Vipers are merely outcasts from several other schools. (Eskel, personally, has always thought this to be bullshit. After all, the Viper mutations are noticeably different from those of any other witcher he’s ever encountered.)

The boy looks up at him with human eyes and says “surprise!” with a level of sarcasm which would put Triss to shame and the gravity of the situation begins to dawn on Eskel. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do with a half-finished witcher child still going through the Grasses? Of course, there’s only one thing to do; he’ll take him to Kaer Morhen. It’s a month’s journey if they’re fast. Is that enough time? Eskel doesn’t know. But like hell is he leaving this kid behind and he doesn’t have a better idea.

Besides, Luath has been thoroughly charmed and Eskel has always been bad at saying no to that bastard. Kaer Morhen it is.

**Author's Note:**

> i was really struggling with finishing my secret santa (i know it's may don't @ me) so i hope having something else to procrastinate from will help? i'm really trying to hack the adhd here.


End file.
